“He’s hurt!” I eye my captor accusingly.
“He’s going to be fine.” he shot back, his playful grin is gone now. He looks at me annoyed. “What did you think was going to happen when you tried to rob me, hmm?”
“I need a first aid kit.” He doesn’t move to help me, instead he just continues to stare at me annoyed. “Please,” I try again. “Please, just let me help him.”
He watches me for a moment before finally caving. “Okay, sweetheart. I’m going to give you a kit, you can patch up your friend here and then you’re going to sit down over there,” he gestured to the bar. “And have a chat with me.”
“Okay,” I agreed quickly. “Just let me help him.”
He nodded to the other man. At his signal the man went and grabbed a first aid kit from behind the bar and brought it over to me.
It was a small kit, but it had enough in it for me to patch Rob up. I kneeled beside him, assessing the wound. He flinches when I touch his leg.
“Can you untie him?” I ask, knowing his answer before he even says it.
“No.” he replies sharply. The games are over, his smile is gone. Now he stands watching me with crossed arms. He’s scarier like this, he looks mean.
“I’m sorry, Annie.” my cousin sobs. He had always been the most sensitive of the three of us. He came up with the wild ideas that got us into trouble and then he was the first to cry.
I steal a quick glance at Johnny. His lips are pressed tightly together. He plays his part well, the one who went along with the bad idea and then acts as if he is above us, smarter than us.
“It’s okay,” I give him a fake, reassuring smile. My part was the sweet sister/cousin who swoops in to save their asses and then makes them feel better about being idiots.
Everybody has a role to play.
There is only one piece of glass in his leg, and luckily it isn’t too big. I gently pull it from his leg, eliciting a small scream from him, and then covered it with gauze.
“It needs stitches.” I turned to tell the tall, dark, and handsome man.
“There are butterfly strips in there.” He uses his Glock to gesture towards the first aid kit.
“That’s not enough.” I try again.
He gives me a half lipped smirk. “Well,” he draws out. “It’s that or a bullet, so pick one.”
“Butterfly strips it is.” Anger flashes through my words. Carefully I place the strips and then cover the whole thing with gauze and medical tape.
“Done.” I move my gaze up to meet my captors.
“Don’t talk to him, Annie.” Johnny shouts from his place, bound next to us.
“Shut him up.” Our captor demands. At the order, the other man is quick to give Johnny a blow to the head.
“Stop!” I shout, the words leave my mouth instinctually. I look up to our captor pleadingly. It seems he had all the power in this room.
“I meant with some tape.” he says, though he doesn’t look at all bothered by the situation.
The bigger man shrugs and quickly grabs the roll of duct tape and covers Johnny’s mouth with a strip.
“Time for that chat?” he asks, lending a hand to help me up, though I didn’t think I had much of an option here.
I’m pretty sure if I say no he’ll just kill us.
His smirk is back. It seems like he’s happy to talk to me, but when it comes to my brother or cousin he’s cold. I’m the only thing keeping us alive right now, I need to play his game and win.
He leads me over to the bar, pulling out a stool and gesturing for me to sit. I comply. The key to winning is knowing when to give and when to fight.
I steel my spine and try to put on a neutral face.
He moves behind the bar, reaching up to the top shelf and grabbing a pricey bottle of whiskey. Not quite my taste. I prefer fruity frozen drinks over straight hard liquor. He grabs two low ball glasses and sets them on the bar in front of me.
“Drink?” he asks, lifting the bottle slightly.
“No, thanks.”
“Whiskey it is then.” He fills both glasses with two fingers' worth of the amber liquid.
Note to self, my answers don’t matter here.
“Saluti,” he says, raising the glasses, his eyes locked on mine waiting for me to join him.
I’m pretty sure the word he uses is Italian. I pick up the glass, eyeing it suspiciously. “Cheers,” I responded, raising mine and taking a sip. The liquor burns its way down my throat and I try my best not to cough. I hate whiskey.
Drinking with this man, who my family just tried to rob, seems dangerous.
But he’s playing a game, and you have to play the game to win.
I steal a glance over my shoulder at Johnny and Rob. I’m secretly pleading for them to let me handle this.
“Eyes on me, sweetheart.”
I whip my head back to look at him. “I bet that’s what you say to all the girls.”
A wide grin spread on his face. He looks like he’s getting off on this back and forth. I’m hoping it’s not because he wants a fight before he kills me.
He takes another swig from the glass, emptying it.
“So tell me, why in hell are you trying to rob me.”
“Right to the point.” I note.
“Not trying to waste time here.”
“You’re Italian?” I ask, drawing his attention off of the subject at hand.
“I ask the questions here. But yes, you don’t already know that?”
“No, I didn’t.” I swirl the remaining whiskey around
